


Blood Moon Rising

by linda92595



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Evil Dean Winchester, Evil Sam Winchester, Very Dark Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:17:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linda92595/pseuds/linda92595
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Season 1 during Dead Man's Blood, AU after that.<br/>A lot of the dialogue for the opening scene comes directly from the script for Dead Man’s Blood.  John and the boys are separated during the raid on the nest, and both Sam and Dean are kidnapped by the vampires. John calls Bobby for assistance in finding the boys. Once John and Bobby find the vampires' new nest John discovers that things have gone horribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Moon Rising

The Impala rested on the side of the road while Dean turned the plain white envelope over in his hands. He looked at the block printing on the front, unwilling to open the envelope but knowing that it might be important. Letting his finger drift over the rough surface of the paper Dean traced the letters J. W. No address just the simple notation; he flinched knowing this letter was meant for his father. Suddenly there was movement at the window and Dean looked up. His father bent over smiling at his startled expression.

 

“Hello, boys.”

 

Sam leaned over his brother’s back.

 

“Dad!”

 

With a sigh John opened the rear door and slid into the car.

 

“I heard about Dan Elkins getting killed. Thought I’d better come down and check it out. I saw you two up at his place earlier, nice job of covering your tracks, by the way.”

 

Dean shrugged as nonchalantly as his father.

 

“Learned from the best.”

 

Sam frowned.

 

"Why didn't you come in Dad?"

 

"You know why. I had to make sure that you weren’t followed," John said. Holding up a hand he motioned to the envelope in his older son’s hand.

 

“I’d better have a look at that.”

 

Dean surrendered the envelope and looked in the rearview mirror as his father folded out a sheet of paper.

 

“Damn it, he had it all along.”

 

“Had what?”

 

“The gun, I’ve been looking for it all these years and it looks like Daniel had it all along.”

John ran a hand through his hair. "Did you see any sign of an old gun in the place?"

 

Dean nodded.

 

"Yeah there was a case in there. No gun though. Looks like something trashed the place to get it."

 

 “Looks like they took it. We need to get on the trail of Elkins' killers immediately, they have the gun now.”

 

"You want us to come with you?" Sam asked incredulously, glancing over the seat at his father. “We don’t even know what killed him, Dad.”

 

John shot him a look as he replied,

 

“Vampires.”

 

Dean flinched,

 

“Vampires, how come you never mentioned them before?”

 

“That’s what Daniel did. He was a vampire hunter, and I thought they were extinct, that he had cleared them all out. Never figured we’d ever run into any of them. Most of what you hear about vampires is total crap.  They used to be human so that affects the way you deal with them. They prefer to come out at night, but that doesn’t mean they can’t come out in daylight. You can’t kill them with a stake through the heart, just good old fashioned decapitation.”

 

 

 

The cabin was dark, silent with the boys asleep on the beds. John lay on a large chair, listening intently to the police scanner he had pulled out of his truck. The static cleared enough for John to hear a call to dispatch about an abandoned car on the road out of town. Rising up he roused the boys, first one then the other, then they set out towards the outskirts of town.

 

There were two police cruisers blocking the road so John pulled his truck off to the side just a few yards down from the blockade. Dean pulled the Impala up beside him. The two men stood on the side of the road talking in hushed tones as John scouted the area around the police lines. Dean watched his father trudge back down the still road waiting for the older man to reach him and his brother.

 

“A couple called 911. They found a body in the street. Cops got there, the couple was missing. It’s the vampires."

 

Sam frowned jerking his chin at the police cars.

 

“How do you know it was the vampires, Dad?”

 

Holding up a hand John turned over what looked like small sharp shard of ivory colored bone. Sam took it from his father’s hand.

 

“What is it, a fang?”

 

“Tooth, actually,” John said.  "No fangs, teeth. The second set descends when they attack. Any more questions? All right, let’s get out of here, we’re losin’ daylight. Hey, Dean, why don’t you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn’t have given you the damn thing if I thought you were gonna ruin it."

 

John frowned as he walked to his truck. He could hear Sam laughing and ribbing his brother as they climbed into the Impala. Once they were on the road again John punched Dean's cell phone number in and waited for his older son to answer.

 

"Yeah, Dad. All right, got it," Dean said hanging up the phone.  Turning to Sam he added, "Pull off at the next exit."

 

 Sam looked over at his brother. "Why?"

 

"Because Dad thinks we’ve got the vampires’ trail."

 

"How?"

 

Dean shrugged. "I don’t know, he didn’t say."

 

 Sam suddenly stepped on the gas and sped down the road. He cut the car in front of his father’s truck and pulled over. John pulled over as well. All three of them climbed out of their cars.

 

Dean frowned putting his head in his hands. "Oh, crap. Here we go. Sam!"

 

John stormed up to his sons turning on Sam. "What the hell was that?"

 

"We need to talk."

 

With a grimace John jerked his head. "About what?"

 

Sam jerked his chin toward the cars, "About everything. Where we goin’, Dad? What’s the big deal about this gun?"

 

Desperately Dean tried to step between the two other men. Smiling he nudged his brother in the ribs.

 

"Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires."

 

"Your brother’s right, we don’t have time for this."

 

Sam persisted.

 

"Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help. Obviously, something big is goin’ down, and we wanna know what!"

 

"Get back in the car," John said, shoulders rigid with fury.

 

Sam shook his head, "No."

 

Pushing against his younger son John said, "I said get back in the damn car."

"Yeah. And I said no."

 

Moving between his father and brother again Dean held up a hand.

 

"All right, you made your point, tough guy. Look, we’re all tired. We can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on."

 

Sam dodged his brother's hands, muttering under his breath, "This is why I left in the first place."

 

"What’d you say?"

 

Sam turned back to John, "You heard me."

 

His father grasped the front of his shirt, pushing, "Yeah. _You_ left. Your brother and me, we needed you. _You_ walked away, Sam, _you_ walked away!"

 

Now Dean was pissed glancing from one man to the other he hissed, "Stop it, both of you!"

 

"You were the one who said ‘Don’t come back’, Dad. You’re the one who closed that door, not me! You were just pissed off you couldn’t control me anymore."

 

"All right, stop it, stop it, stop it, that’s enough!" Dean broke them up. He turned to his father fisting the front of John's shirt. "That means you, too."

 

Dean stood under a tree looking down the hill at the farmhouse far below. His brother was hunched over behind him. Carefully Dean pulled a machete from the trunk of the Impala handing it over to Sam. He glanced behind him to where his father stood looking over the weapons in the box hidden under the false-bottom of the flatbed of his truck.

With a grin Dean said,

 

"Hey Dad we have an extra machete if you need it."

 

"No thanks I got one." John pulled a large stainless-steel blade out of black leather sheath. "So….you boys really wanna know about this Colt?"

 

Slightly surprised, both Dean and Sam stopped what they were doing and turned to their father.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

John nodded. "It’s just a story, a legend, really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel’s letter. Back in 1835, when Halley’s Comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun, a special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us, only on horseback. The story goes he made thirteen bullets. This hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. Somehow, Daniel got his hands on it. They say, they say this gun can kill anything."

 

The inside of the farmhouse was still and silent. The vampires were sleeping in hammocks fastened haphazardously around the room. The two younger men moved through the room finding one slim blond girl tied to a beam near the door. Dean hurriedly tugged down the gag stuffed into her mouth. He reached out to untie the ropes fastening her hands.

 

John left the girl to the boys, as he crept into the bedroom. On the bed beneath one of the windows were two vampires, one male and one female. He slipped silently into the room. The Colt was on the nightstand and John smiled. Quietly he crept forward picking the gun up. With a cold calculating glare he raised the machete over the female vampire's head.

Suddenly the other room erupted into chaos as the girl Dean was untying began hissing and screaming. The male vampire on the bed jerked away looking up at John. He cursed and backed away tucking the Colt into his pocket before running from the back room.

 

"Boys!" John yelled, "Leave her. Run!"

 

Dean barreled out of the door with his brother following close behind. John turned to the path away from their vehicles, running in smooth ground eating strides up the hill toward the open meadow, now brightly lit by the late morning sun. He knew that once the vampires scented him and the boys they'd never give up. All he needed was to get the boys to safety and store the gun. The vampires would come after them, but John was fairly certain that they wouldn't risk coming after them in bright daylight. Grinning John caught up with his sons, watching as Sam covered the ground in an easy loping stride. Dean dropped back to his father.

 

"Dad, they're coming."

 

John whirled. "What…I didn't think they'd follow us in the light. Stick close together we'll swing around and work our way back to the cars."

 

Nodding Dean pushed Sam back down the path following after the older man. Just as John turned the male vampire hurled himself at the hunter. He hit John mid-chest with a shoulder and the human staggered back. John's foot slid off the path and into empty air. His arms came up and he made one attempt to grasp anything to keep from falling.

Overbalanced John plunged over the edge of the cliff and tumbled head over heels down the side of the hill. He hit the bottom of the hill with a grunt rolling over a few times and slid into the thick under brush.

 

Far above him, the vampires surrounded Dean and Sam hustling them back to the farm. The female vampire turned to her mate.

 

"Luther, don't you think we should get the hunter?"

 

Shrugging Luther grunted.

 

"His scent is fading. He'll probably be dead by the time we get down there, or gone. We still have these two, Kate." 

 

Grinning Kate touched Dean's neck “We'll take these two first anyway. They can help us find and kill the old man."

 

When John regained consciousness he rolled over hissing in pain. With trembling hands he pushed up feeling his knee pop into place as he struggled to his feet. Groaning he limped to the path. With a panicked expression John quickly patted down his pockets and found the Colt still in his jacket. That would discourage the vampires from coming after him right away, but the boys were nowhere to be seen.

 

Cursing under his breath John made the trip back to the farmhouse but it was empty. He struggled up the hill. His truck was still there, locked. And the vampires must have been in a hurry because it was untouched, but the Impala was gone. Fear seized John's heart. The vampires had his boys. With a frown he pulled out his cell phone looking at Dean's number when it flashed on the screen.

 

John started to call, but then clicked the phone off. The vampires might not dispose of the boys' cell phones and that gave John a way to track them. The soft red earth of the road had deeply embedded tire tracks. John knew the tread was from the Impala, without a doubt. Turning the truck around he began the long journey to find his sons.

 

Pulling out his cell phone John placed one call. He was a little hesitant considering that he had pissed Bobby off enough that the man had threatened to shoot him the last time they'd been together. But John knew that was just show, and masculine pride. Bobby hadn't taken John's rejection easily. And as bitchy as it was, John knew he had the older man twisted around his little finger. Bobby wouldn't turn him down.

 

The phone rang and then Bobby's whiskey-roughened voice was on the other end. Taking a deep breath John growled, "Bobby…it’s me. I need your help."

 

The hesitation on the other end made John smile, and then Bobby rasped, "What's the matter Johnny?"

 

Wincing John thought about telling the older man to not call him Johnny, but it wouldn't do any good anyway and he was the one come begging for help.

 

"Vampires took my boys. I want 'em back."

 

The sharp indrawn breath still caught John by surprise. But he was gratified when Bobby said, "You come on straight to my place, you hear. I'll call Jim Murphy he's got a few books on vampires I need to see. Don't you go after them until I can meet up with you."

 

"I'm on the road after them. I got to get my cell phone tied into the gps system in Dean's phone. I'm going by the cell phone company next town I get too. I'll call you again."

 

"Be careful, John," Bobby said softly. John flinched, feeling tightness in this throat.

 

"I will, Bobby…and thanks."

 

The cell phone company was more than willing to tie John's phone into Dean's gps once they saw the Federal Marshal's badge.  John used the signal to track the boys as the vampires moved toward South Dakota. At first John panicked thinking that they were after Bobby, but then he realized the movements were aimless, and the boys would never lead the things to their friend. In a way it made John's job a lot easier. Each day they got closer to Bobby's where John wanted to be anyway.

 

The older man had told John that he was meeting Jim Murphy half-way between the two men's homes to pick some books. John was angry and impatient when Bobby wasn't back when he said he would be. He sat on the bed in his hotel room waiting for the other man to call. When the phone rang Bobby was on the other end.

 

"John, I just finished meeting with Jim Murphy, I got the books. You realize that the longer the boys are with the vampires the more likely it is that they'll be turned. But there are theories that vampirism, like lycanthropy, is a virus and can be cured. Wait for me."

 

"I can't Bobby. Look I’ve been tracking the vampires. They’re not too far from Durham. I think that the boys might have been steering the vampires toward your place hoping I'd follow and get you to help me."

 

Bobby nodded, although he knew John couldn't see him. "Sounds like Dean alright. I'm going to drive all night, John just wait for me."

 

"I can't make any promises."

 

"Goddammit, John…" Bobby hissed. "I'll be there come morning. Just wait for me."

 

John flipped his phone closed, fuming. Bobby was slow moving, but thorough and John knew the other hunter was right; still it didn’t sit well with him to just stay put. It was past midnight though and while John could track at night if he had to, it was far easier in the daylight. His head was swimming from exhaustion anyway, and he knew he wasn’t fit to drive. He need to rest, but sleep was hard to find.

 

Grunting he rolled over and headed for the bathroom; a warm bath might calm him down. He ran the tub full of water as hot as he could stand it and sank down. The corded muscles in his back and neck began to unwind, and John sighed. Picking up the soap he slicked his left hand and grasped his dick. John felt a little guilty doing this when his sons were gone, taken away, but he was no good to them exhausted. He needed to relax enough to sleep for a few hours.

 

Taking a firm grip John sat about working himself to orgasm. He didn’t bother with anything fancy just good old fashioned stress relief. Still it took a little while, and by the time he felt his balls drawing up the water was turning cold. Struggling into a more upright position John tugged once hard enough to hurt, and came over his hand.

Standing on shaky knees he grabbed a towel wiped his hand and belly down and dried enough to put on clean boxers and a t-shirt. He slipped into the bed and fell back, mind still clouded with fear.

 

Morning found John still nervous but the sleep had cleared the fuzziness from his mind. He was focused and ready to move on. He grabbed some pastry and coffee at the Seven-Eleven as he gassed the truck and slid his journal over the hood, looking at the rough map he had sketched out as he followed the vampires’ movements. They were in some industrial park in a little nothing town called Ridley, right down the highway from Bobby’s place. John smiled as he climbed into the seat.

 

John crept through the dark building casting a quick glance over his shoulder. The hall was silent, no signs of the vampires. Somewhere in this place were his two sons.  There was a whispered hiss, the sigh of exhaled breath, followed by murmured words. Cocking his head John slid to a halt, the noise was directly ahead, somewhere down the long corridor. Gripping the machete in his hand the hunter took a deep breath finally admitting that he may have been mistaken in refusing to wait for Bobby to join him.

 

The voices stalled out and John grimaced in displeasure. Taking another deep breath he plunged into the room raising the weapon. Standing in front of him were his boys. The tightness leeched out of John’s spine and he actually slumped over slightly before glancing back down the corridor the way he came.

 

Sam looked at his father, grinning a little. John was too relieved that the boys were safe and uninjured to worry about the odd little smirk that crossed his features. Dean was standing behind his brother, eyes sparkling with laughter. Both younger men watched intently as their father hurried to where they stood.

 

Head tilted to one side Dean moved close to John taking a deep breath. The older man frowned when his son stepped into his personal space, almost pressing against the John’s side. He shifted, suddenly anxious. Dean licked his lips and John slid back another step, coming abruptly into contact with his younger son’s chest. Sam’s hands came up resting on John’s shoulders and his father flinched, turning awkwardly, trying to keep Dean in sight as well as Sam.

 

“Sammy, your hands are cold.”

 

He smiled wanly, eyes flicking from Sam’s long, slim fingers to his face. The younger man’s expression was cheerful; down-right jovial given the circumstances, and John felt that flicker of unease settling over him again.

 

Sam’s fingers rested against his father’s skin, thumbs pressing the knobs of his spine, long forefingers touching the pulse points in John’s throat. With a long sigh Sam pressed hard enough to make his father cringe in pain.

 

“Sammy?”

 

“Hush, Daddy,” Sam hissed, soothing his father with a touch. John flinched again; it had been a lot of years since either one of the boys had called him Daddy. Sam had held out the longest. Until his teenage years had done away with that little nicety. When all their conversations seemed to end in raised voices and slammed doors.

 

 Quickly one hand slipped from John’s neck falling to his side. The long fingers were back, hooked in the waistband of John’s jeans, pushing the material away so that the tips could brush over the silky skin of his father’s hip.

 

John stiffened, elbow coming up to connect solidly with his younger child’s belly. Sam chuckled, not at all deterred from the movement of his hands over his father’s body. Dean grinned at John, stepping close as well. Dropping his head he leaned in close to John, sniffing. The older man smelt of soap and shampoo underlain with the aroma of masculine sweat that had dampened the fabric of his shirt. Beneath the scent of sweat was the muskier scent of semen, and Dean grinned knowing that meant his father had masturbated earlier that day.

 

With no warning his hand snaked out grasping John’s left wrist. In spite of his father’s grunt of surprise he pulled John’s hand up inspecting it closely. John’s face went livid red as if he understood what Dean was doing and why.

 

“Does it make you think of her…when you feel your ring on your dick?”

 

Jerking his arm John tried to step back, but Sam was a solid weight behind him, and his younger son’s body kept him pinned between the two younger men. Dean smirked, licking a long stripe up the center of his father’s palm. John swallowed nervously but his older son merely cocked his head.

 

“I wonder what it would taste like from the source.”

 

“Dean, stop it. That’s not funny,” John hissed, anger coloring his cheeks now. Dean's face morphed into something like a contrite expression, but John was too good at reading him. He knew that smirk, had been on the receiving end of it too many times when Dean showed up reeking of beer, stale smoke and the warm scent of a woman.

 

Trying for the dignified high-ground John shrugged Sam's hands off and side-stepped his older son. He almost made it when Dean grabbed his father's wrist and wrenched it, turning his arm over hard. John cried out in pain as the younger man forced him to his knees. Face level with Dean's groin the older man was forced to look up. The light must have been playing tricks on him because it seemed as if his son's eyes flashed silver in the deepening gloom.

 

Sam dropped to his knees behind his father pulling John's wrists out of his brother's hands holding them behind John, keeping the older man still with the weight of his own arms pressed tight against his sides. Leaning in, the younger Winchester pressed his nose into the dark curls at the back of his father's neck. John's hair ruffled against his skin with the quiet exhalations of his younger son's silent laughter. Rubbing his nose through John's hair Sam opened his mouth and flicked his tongue against the sweat dampened skin of his father's neck. John hissed in a breath, panting a little, and the uneasy feeling he had churned into gut-wrenching fear.

 

"Sam, you need to cut that out right now. You're really starting to piss me off. I don't want to fight with you and Dean, and we need to get the hell out of here before the vampires get back."

 

Dean smiled down at John's upturned face.

 

"Get back, Dad?"

 

John's eyes widened when Dean bent at the waist fingers sliding under his father's chin. Tilting John's head to the side he looked at the vein throbbing in his neck. Sighing Sam leaned closer and Dean's eyes gleamed with maniacal glee.

 

"Just a little, we don't want to go too far. I think he can be of good use. At least, I intend to use him. How about you little brother?"

 

Sam ran his tongue over his teeth then bent his head to John's neck. Dean muffled John's half-strangled shout of pain with his hand watching as his brother sank his teeth into their father's neck. Bright crimson welled up under Sam's mouth, spilling in thin streams down to the collar of John's t-shirt. The older man stiffened, back arching, pressing the back of his head against his younger son's shoulder.  With a smile Dean pushed Sam away, slapping him when Sam hissed and snapped at his brother's fingers.

 

"That's s enough, we don't want him dead. At least I don't. One of the girls in the other room is still alive, go finish her off. I want some Daddy and me time."

 

Sam rose, growling, but patted John on the head. Without a word he jogged down the hall and disappeared into one of the doors at the far end of the building. Dean regarded his father with a quiet, still, face, standing almost motionless in front of the other man. Almost gently he knelt down raising John's head so that they could look each other in the eye.

 

"Dad, all I ever wanted was for you to love me. Not even as much as you loved Sammy, after all he was the baby. Your baby and your last tie to Mom. I understand that, understood it then. But you could have shown me a little more love and affection."

 

"I'm not that kind of man, Dean. I thought you understood that, even your mother had problems with me on that account. I don't do touchy-feely crap. I never loved Sam more than I loved you, you have to understand that. Please…I showed Sam more affection because I favored you so much. I thought it balanced it all out. I guess you can't weigh things, can't show one and not the other. I always thought you understood I got you. I never really clicked with Sam. Somewhere along the way I forgot you were just a little boy too. I leaned on you, and I'm sorry Dean. I really am."

 

"Don't be Dad. I love you; let me show you how much I love you."

 

Leaning forward Dean pressed his lips against his father's. John tried to turn away, tried to fight the growing nausea cramping his stomach. Dean's hands were like iron bars on his arms, holding him secure, keeping John from moving back.

 

When Dean released him John sagged backward retching. Watching silently he gasped when Dean stood fingers going to the fly of his jeans. The sound of the zipper lowering was explosively loud in the still, darkened room and John dropped to his hands and knees trying to crawl away.  But Dean was too quick.

 

He grabbed John's ankle slamming the older man down on the floor with bone numbing force. John grunted as the air was forced out of his body. With a moan he kicked out one booted foot catching his older son squarely in the thigh. Snarling, Dean hauled his father bodily to his knees, lacing his fingers in the older man's hair.

 

"Open your mouth Daddy. You know how to use it when you want to lie and cheat. You know how to use it to make me feel like shit. Now you're going to use it to make me feel good."

 

A sob broke in John's chest.

 

"Please Dean, you don't want to do this…"

 

"Oh Dad, you have no idea what I really want. So open your mouth and do exactly like I tell you 'cause Sammy's way more interested in seeing you bleed than I am, but I'm willing to work with him on that one. You need to do this right, I'll even tell you what to do."

 

John was held immobile by the hands on his shoulders, fingers digging painfully into the hard muscles. Dean's legs were spread one knee pressed against each of John's arms, and the older man had both hands against his son's thighs struggling futilely to push away.

 

The rough matt of pubic hair pressed against his nose was musky smelling, and rasped against the four day's stubble on his chin and upper lip. John gagged at the intrusion of the length of hard flesh into his mouth. His lips were stretched, aching, and he had a little trouble drawing breath. Briefly John considered biting, but as if Dean could read his father's mind he laced the fingers of one hand in the dark curls and pulled, lifting John's head as much as possible with his cock shoved down the older man's throat.

 

"I wouldn't, we aren't the only ones left, Sammy and me, and I can only justify keeping you around and alive if you're useful to me. Right now you're being useful. You're pretty good at this, have you done it before?"

 

John shook his head and Dean grinned.

 

"I bet you're a virgin the other way too. Ever spread your legs for anybody, not even in the jungle when nobody was looking and you could laugh it off as stress relief?"

 

John shook his head again, eyes flashing toward the wall. He felt Dean's cock growing impossibly hard in his mouth and fought down the panic as his breath was cut completely off. Then there was a rush of bitter tasting fluid and his head was released from the vise-like grip. Retching John turned away and vomited what little he had in his stomach.

 

"Not bad, you must be a natural born cocksucker. Too bad Bobby never got the joy of breaking you in. I mean, we all know that's where the two of you were headed, Dad. I know he wanted to pop your cherry. I bet you would have let him too."

 

Shivering John hunched over and then cast a sideways glance at his firstborn child.

 

"Dean please, you and Sammy need to come away with me. Maybe there's a way to fix this. I know Bobby said he thought that this was a virus and that there could be a way to reverse it. Just like he believed with lycanthropy."

 

"Fix this, Dad? What the hell are you talking about? This ain't broke so there's no need to fix it. I want this. Do you know how much power I have? How much I can get from this? I just got big, bad John Winchester to bend his stiff neck and suck my cock."

 

John took one shuddering breath, narrowing his eyes and launched himself off the ground throwing a shoulder into Dean's chest. There was a satisfying collision of muscle to muscle and John felt the shock wave jarring him all the way to the bone. Dean staggered back and for one minute the older man thought that he might be gaining the upper hand.

 

The chuckle that Dean let loose was as soulless and dry as the chilled night wind. Smirking at his father Dean raised one hand slapping John across the face. It was just an open handed slap but it was almost a knock out blow. John flew back landing in a heap on the floor. Hissing a curse under his breath he rolled coming up onto the balls of his feet hoping to dodge the next blow he saw coming. But he was too slow. Dean's fist impacted with his father's cheek, splitting the skin and sending droplets of blood splattering across the wall.

 

His father's head rocked back, slamming against the wall and John was out. He crumpled and fell. Dean hauled the older man up carrying him close against his chest. The scent of the blood still leaking sluggishly from the cuts on John's face sent a shiver coursing down his spine.  Carefully Dean carried his father's unconscious form into the room where his brother was still lazily drinking blood from a small dark-haired young woman.

 

Sam looked up as Dean leaned back against the wall cradling John's limp body in his arms. He frowned.

 

"I thought you didn't want to kill him. You wanted a pet, and now you broke it already."

 

"He isn't broken, at least not all the way. I can't say what'll happen before I get finished with him. We need to move out. I'm pretty sure the red-neck hillbilly will show up sooner or later. No matter how pissed Bobby always got at Dad, the idea he might get into his pants someday kept him hanging on."

 

 

When John woke he was laying on a bed. The sunlight was streaming in the big bay window on the side wall and the smaller windows flanking the bed.  Rolling over John jerked his leg and winced at the pain that jarred his spine. He flipped back on the blanket and noted that his right ankle was fastened to the wrought iron bed frame with a length of blue nylon rope.

 

John quickly slid one hand down his bare leg bending at the waist until he could wrap his fingers around the knots tied at his ankle. They were tight, too tight, and John knew that he would never be able to free himself. The door to the room opened and a young blond woman walked in. She was pale skinned, wearing dirty jeans and a torn shirt, and John was sure she hadn't bathed in a few days.

 

Something about the wan, colorless look to her face led John to believe that the vampires had been feeding on her, and he flinched as she struggled with a wooden tray bearing a covered dish and a large mug of coffee. He flushed when he realized that he was naked, but other than her eyes brushing over his body listlessly she didn't react. Dragging the blanket over his lap John took the tray from her.

 

"Dean wanted me to bring you this."

 

"Where are they now?" John asked.

 

She shrugged shaking her head.

 

"Get me a knife and I can get us out of here. I have a friend; he's probably looking for me by now. If you can get me a knife or even a gun, I can get loose. I'll take you out with me."

 

The girl looked at him with flat, lifeless blue eyes. Her face twisted into a sneer.

 

"Why would I want to leave? They told me that they can make me one of them, make it so that I never grow old and die. Why don't you just get with the program?"

 

 

 

Bobby pulled his old, beat-up truck into the parking lot of the abandoned warehouse that John had tracked the vampires to a couple of days ago. He had been delayed in getting back to town after picking up the particular book from Jim Murphy when John called him telling him he had found the hide-out. John was sure that the boys were still there, still alive. Bobby wasn't so certain himself.

 

The warehouse was empty, but he found signs of recent occupation and activity in several of the rooms. Bobby hadn't tracked anything for years but it was like riding a bicycle you never forgot. At least he hadn't. In one of the small side rooms Bobby found the body of a small, slender woman with long dark curls. She was dead, cold, and he wrapped her in a tarp deciding to salt and burn her later.

 

In the corridor Bobby found signs of a struggle, three men from the looks of it. On one wall was a smear of clotted blood, not enough to be fatal. Matted in the dried blood was a short dark brown hair. Bobby knew it was John's.  Cursing under his breath Bobby scoured the floor and found a few footprints. They led out the side door to the rear parking lot. John's truck was there, and the keys were laying on the pavement a few spots over.  He knew that John would never leave the keys, especially with the weapons box under the false bottom of the flatbed. They must have dropped out of his pocket. That meant that John was being carried, and if one of the vampires cared enough to carry John, he was still alive. That smacked of Dean to the older man. Bobby grunted.

 

He made a quick thorough search and found a set of fresh tire marks leading out of the parking lot. The tread looked about right to be the Impala. If Dean was still driving that car he would be a hell of a lot easier to track.

 

Quickly Bobby went back into the warehouse. Gathering up all the girl's clothes and personal belongings he piled them on top of her body. Pulling a canister of salt out of his bag Bobby sprinkled the corpse and then doused her in lighter fluid. The body caught without a problem.

 

He decided to take John's truck simply because leaving it abandoned with all those weapons inside was not a good idea. He'd call in a report of his truck being stolen. Bobby knew how to move around inside a place without leaving traces, even if the cops decided to check out the warehouse they would never know he was there. He made sure to clean up any trace of John as well.

 

 

 

By nightfall John knew he was in trouble. He looked at the tray of food that had been delivered by the same blonde girl. He hadn’t eaten the other food she had brought, had no intentions of eating this. His stomach was still bubbling with stress induced gas, and he felt sick. John had no illusions that Sam and Dean had not been turned; he could only hope that Bobby would find the three of them. That he would have the book he went all the way to Blue Earth to get, and find a way to reverse this thing that had happened to his sons.

 

The door opened slowly and John fully expected the same slim blond girl to be standing there. Instead Dean's face came into view. Hissing a breath John tried to pull back, but he was pretty much anchored. He had found that the rope was long enough to reach the portable toilet that sat in the corner and back to the bed but no further.

 

The girl had come in twice to empty the toilet, doing so without batting so much as an eyelash. She had brought him several bottles of water as well, and a box of diaper wipes which was as close to a bath as he had gotten since the previous morning.

 

A quick movement from the door drug John out of his moody introspection, and he watched as his firstborn son crossed the room with his well-practiced swagger. Being changed hadn't altered the boy that much, physically, but there was an edge to Dean that he had lacked in life. With a grin he settled on the side of the bed pulling the tray over.

His smile faded when he looked at the cold untouched food.

 

"Bridgette said you didn't eat your breakfast this morning either." Dean frowned. Leaning forward he stroked a hand over his father's cheek. John pulled back.

 

"I don't intend to eat anything you give me."

 

"Dad, you might as well not be stubborn. I won't let you starve to death. If I have to I'll cut a hole in your stomach and put a tube in to feed you that liquid crap."

 

John flinched again, this time at the razor sharp edge of his son's voice. The younger man set the tray aside and climbed onto the bed. He slid over grasping his father's knee in one hand, pulling his legs apart. John tried to pull away, but Dean's fingers were like iron. His grip never slackened even when John's knee popped alarmingly. With a groan the older man lay still.

 

Dean pressed his fingertips into the dislocated joint then with a smile wrenched it back into place. John screamed.  If he had eaten anything that day he would have lost it. As it was he retched, panting. Leaning down Dean slid against his father, long fingers gliding over the older man's thighs.

 

John struggled upright.

 

"Please Dean, don't do this. I can still help you; all we have to do is wait for Bobby…"

 

Dean's fist lashed out striking his father on the cheek. He sneered. "Don't mention that hillbilly's name around me. I'm the important one now. I'm the one who gets to have you, Dad."

 

With a shrug he caught John's knee again and the older man stiffened waiting for the blinding pain. Instead Dean patted him gently then let his fingers drift to the front of his own shirt loosening the buttons. John cringed again as Dean tugged the button loose on his jeans, pushing them down and off his legs. Stripped the younger man crawled the length of his father's body reaching over to the nightstand. He took a small tube out of the drawer dropping on the bed beside John's hip.

 

Smiling up at his father's face Dean bent down licking the soft skin at the crease of John's thigh and hip. John moaned low in his throat trying to shove Dean away. Breathing heavily John scooted back as Dean's tongue touched John's limp cock. With a wolfish grin he opened his mouth and tongued the slit. John felt the bile rising in his throat.

 

"Oh God, please Dean, don't."

 

"Shhhhh, Daddy. This'll be so good. How long has it been since you've let anyone take care of you like this? I know you jerk off a lot. Is it because you don't get laid enough or not at all?"

 

"Dean, for God's sake this is not right. Please don't."

 

John's breath hissed out of his body as his son enveloped his cock in his mouth. Dean worked him and in spite of his best efforts John found his body betraying him. He grew hard. With a snort of amusement Dean sucked him deep and hard, and John moaned. Suddenly his son's fingers were at his opening and John flinched trying to move away.

Something slick and hard probed his ass, and then John grunted as a finger worked its way inside.

 

He had never been penetrated before and the feeling made him uncomfortable enough that his erection wilted. Dean just worked his cock harder then curved his finger down rubbing over his father's prostate.  John hardened again until with a gasped curse he came, flooding his son's mouth with his seed. He rolled onto his side humiliated and horrified.

 

Dean grunted, surprised at the suddenness of John's climax but slid up his father's body. He pushed against John's shoulder rolling him onto his stomach as much as possible then picked up the lube squirting a large dollop on John's back.

 

Scraping the clear gel up Dean coated his cock. Shoving a knee between John's legs he spread his father out, and thrust inside his body in one swift movement. John hissed in pain, fingers knotted in the dirty, rumpled sheets of the bed. It didn't take Dean long to come and he rolled off John, shrugged into his clothes and disappeared.

 

John lay stunned, fists still clenched around the sheets, weeping silently until the door opened again. When he looked up again Sam was standing in the doorway. With a swagger that was not nearly as expressive as his older brother's he crossed the room coming up to the bed.

 

"Sammy, please untie me. Let me go. I can help you and your brother. You’re both just confused right now."

 

Patting John's head Sam dropped onto the bed. Frowning he lifted his father's head, and then wiped at the tears on his cheeks.

 

"Hush, there's no need for all this, Daddy. Let me kiss it and make it all better."

 

Sam leaned over pressing a kiss on John's slack lips.

 

"Dean says that you give head like a pro. That you're a natural born cocksucker, is that true Daddy?"

 

"God, please Sammy. You're my baby boy…don't do this. Let me go, please, let me go."

 

"That's right just open your mouth. I won't take long."

 

Sam's long fingers twisted into John's hair. He hadn't had a haircut in long enough that the curls at the back of his neck were easily gripped. Clenching the fingers of one hand Sam gripped John's jaw and worked his thumb into his father's mouth prying it open. With a grin Sam straddled the older man's chest, pushing his knees against John's shoulders. Grunting he forced his stiff cock between his father's slack lips. John tried to pull away when Sam pushed in too far, and Sam frowned, fingers digging painfully into the older man's jaw.

 

"And don't think about biting Daddy. I'll knock your teeth out with a hammer if you do."

 

Dean sauntered into the room; John's eyes flickered to his older son's face, praying silently he was there to kill his father. But Dean merely sighed sliding onto the bed behind his younger brother. Hooking his chin over Sam's shoulder he watched as Sam pumped in and out of John's mouth.

 

“Daddy, don’t worry it’ll all be over soon,” Sam hissed, grinning. When he stiffened and hissed out a curse, Dean wrapped his arms around his brother's chest and pulled back. Sam's cock popped out of their father's mouth with an audible sound and he spurted across John's face.

 

Moaning Dean slid around Sam and licked his brother's come off John's cheeks and chin. His father groaned trying to pull away, but Dean wrapped his palm around John's head and held him in place. John sagged to the bed not moving. With a dry chuckle Dean turned pulling Sam into his arms, his mouth found his brother's and they fell down on the bed pressed tight against John's body, rubbing against each other and making sure that John could feel every movement.

 

 

Once Dean and Sam had finished John shrank away from their hands and mouths. Dean shrugged but Sam tugged his father across the bed, tonguing John's neck. He found the bruises and bite marks he had left the day before and ripped into the injured skin. Blood welled beneath his questing lips and he gulped down large mouthfuls until, once again, his older brother pulled him away.

 

"I mean it Sammy, you can't kill him. I won't allow it."

 

Sam hissed and growled but backed away. He glowered at the still, silent figure on the bed. Turning to his brother he snapped,

 

"Dean, he's almost dead anyway. Just let me finish him, we've had our fun."

 

"No! I don’t want him dead. I want him warm, alive and with me. I want to feel his mouth and ass around my cock and under my body. I want to control him. He's mine, and if you can't behave I won't share my pet with you."

 

 

When darkness enveloped the room John looked up. He could hear silence descending on the house as the vampires left. There was someone moving around in one of the other rooms, walking down the hall away from where he was. John guessed it was the blond girl, from the lightness of the footfalls. She appeared a few minutes later with a large metal bowl of water and a cloth. Dean must have said something to her because she came to the bed, and made a half-assed attempt at bathing him. John flinched every time she touched him.

 

"Look, girl…" he frowned."I'm sorry I don't know your name. Cut me loose and I can get us out of here before it's too late."

 

She frowned pulling her slender wrist out of his grasp, and John was horrified to realize he was so weak that he couldn't hold her. She finished wiping most of the surface dirt off him, and ran some water through his hair. It didn't help with the greasy feel of his scalp and John flinched again.

 

"I already told you I don't want to get away. I want to be like them."

 

Closing his eyes in despair John sighed, "They won't make you like them. In the end they'll just kill you. If Dean wasn't my son, I'd be dead already."

 

She sneered at him, "You fuck with your own son? No wonder he's like he is."

 

John ignored her.  Jerking on the rope he tried once again to free himself and felt his heart sink when he realized that he was never going to get the knots undone himself. He cast a glance at the girl, but she was already leaving. Apparently his impromptu bath was over. John still felt dirty.  Of course, being raped by his own sons might have contributed to that. Moaning John tired to sleep.

 

 

John’s days faded into hunger and a haze of pain and his nights became unreal. The nightmare of having his own sons rape and torture him turned him inward. He rarely spoke, eating only when Dean forced bites of food into his mouth and sank inside himself. Sam was disgusted by the sight of him and refused to come near John.

 

Despite Dean’s best effort he was beginning to see that he might be forced to turn their father or kill him outright. Night fell and he was sitting on the bed watching as John slept. The older man was thinner, fading, and Dean couldn’t get enough food into him to bring him back to full health. He sighed, John was locked away from him, inside his own mind; even sex with him was no longer pleasant for the younger man. He had beaten John with a leather strap and even that failed to produce the desires results, John just wouldn’t rouse.

 

Grunting he casually flipped John onto his belly, smiling as his father wriggled and complained slightly before falling into an apathetic silence. Dean grabbed the tube of KY jelly on the nightstand and slicked his cock, not bothering to prepare John. He wanted his father to move or respond and John would lapse into sullen stillness if Dean prepared him properly.

 

His father jerked, crying out when Dean’s cock was forced into his lax body. For one minute Dean hoped that John would fight, try to throw him off, but the older man just settled onto the bed staring at the wall in utter despair.

 

When he was finished Dean rolled away not even trying to cover his father or wash the blood from his thighs and buttocks. He snarled and slapped John roughly on the shoulder but his father didn’t move.

 

Sam was standing in the door watching his brother’s every move. His eyes glittered in the darkness, shining silver then amber as he shifted minutely. He didn’t bother coming near the bed, his father no longer held any interest for him. But watching his brother violate the older man excited him, and he tugged Dean’s arm pulling his brother out the door.

 

Dean walked with his brother behind the three vampires they had not killed when they took over the pack. As he sauntered by the door to the upper bedroom he could just make out the still form of the he blond girl on the bed. One of them, probably Sam, had drained her dry. Her skin was luminous blue-white in the pale moonlight and he paused considering how beautiful she looked, like some sculpture in pale marble.

 

The five vampires left the house, Dean driving the Impala with Sam by his side as they had done for so much of their lives. The house was still and quiet behind them and the lights of the city beckoned, promising food and the greater pleasure of fear and destruction. Dean cranked up the tapedeck, humming along with the music. There was no real reason to come back to this place. John would be dead in a few days, and while Dean would miss him in the vague way one missed a dead pet, it was no great loss. And with his father dead and gone no-one would bother looking for him and Sam.

 

 

Bobby looked through the newspapers. He had left the warehouse four days ago, and the sheriff’s department had called him informing him his ‘stolen’ truck had been located and was in the impound lot. He had dutifully gotten a ride from a neighbor and paid the tow fees. Now the truck rested outside in the parking lot of Denny’s while its owner ate dinner and poured over the papers looking for a clue as to where the vampires had taken John.

 

There was some blurb on a back page about a missing girl. Bobby frowned at the photograph. She was perky, blonde and cute. Just Dean’s type. He was almost certain that the girl would turn up dead, drained of blood and Bobby hoped that the body of an older man didn’t turn up with her.

 

She had gone missing just a day before John left Bobby a message on his cell phone that he was going to the abandoned warehouse on Bellemy Road. The girl had been driving from her house in Durham to the mall and her car had turned up on Bellemy Road, just south of a row of vacant houses that were reportedly being used by homeless people as shelter. The sheriff’s department had a theory that one of the homeless men in the area might have kidnapped the girl, but so far they had found nothing. Well, Bobby had a starting point. It was going on midnight but he’d take the long way home and check out a couple of those vacant houses.

 

The first house was out of the way, far up the street at the end of the cul-de-sac, and had a large yard, more so than the other houses on the street. The driveway was long and sheltered from view by a line of stately old elm trees on both sides. It would be a good place for vampires to nest. The grounds were overgrown, and dead enough that it wouldn’t be attractive to potential buyers and the house had fallen into disrepair, either before the family moved out or since. It was a smaller three bedroom place according to the flyer on the mailbox, and the real estate agent wanted to move it fast based upon the deal he was willing cut. That meant no one had looked at it in awhile.

 

Pulling his truck into the driveway Bobby got out, making sure the Beretta he carried was tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He pulled his flannel shirt over the gun, and crept to the front door. He lifted a crossbow out of the truck’s seat and slung a quiver of bolts across his back. The house was silent, still and he didn’t feel that gut-clenching feeling of eyes lingering on his body as he walked briskly to the door. The lock was simple, single tumbler, and easy to pick. Now he just had to pray that there was no alarm system.

 

The box beside the door was hanging free, disabled, and Bobby decided that was Sam’s doing. That boy could work wonders with a laptop, and apparently anything electronic was no match for his skills. For a minute Bobby took time to offer a prayer of thanks that John was a paranoid bastard who had trained his sons to be just as antisocial and dishonest as himself. And despite the younger one’s objections he knew that Winchester hustle every bit as well as his old man.

 

Bobby moved carefully through the darkened room. The stench of dried blood and decomposing flesh was almost overwhelming. With a grunt the hunter quickly checked the first bedroom kicking the door open while bringing the crossbow up. The room was dimly lit by the early morning sunlight filtering through the ragged curtains. It was also empty.

 

Heaving a sigh Bobby quickly moved to the next door. It was open and he could see the dark, glimmering stains on the bare wooden floors. The blood was still fresh, glinting like spilt oil under the sullen glow of a single bulb burning over head. He stepped into the room.

 

There was a body on the bed, a girl. Her blond hair was matted with blood, thick dark clumps clinging wetly to her neck and face. Bobby stooped down, not even needing to check her pulse to see she was dead. Her fingers were clenched into the bedcovers, knuckles whitish-blue against the dark cloth. But her arms were stiff with rigor, and he merely glanced at her naked back and blood stained thighs. One or more of them had raped her before they bled her dry.

 

He was beginning to despair of finding John, thinking that maybe the boys had taken their father with them when he heard a soft sound from the next doorway down the hall. His mouth twisted into a hard line, lips rigid with fury, as Bobby hefted the crossbow and stepped out into the hallway once again.

 

The last room on the right was the final of this house's three bedrooms. The room was brightening now as the dawn broke over the hills and poured the first fragile threads of sunlight into the big bay window. There was a bed placed on the far wall, dead-center between two smaller windows. The covers were rumpled, streaked with blood and other body fluids and nestled in the center of the big bed was a figure.

 

He was filthy, covered in his own blood. And he stank. Of course, the vampires had had John here for a few days before Bobby could figure out where to begin looking for him. Now he wasn't sure that he wanted to find the other man. John was moving, but that didn't necessarily mean he was still alive. Although the thin fingers of sunlight spilling through the window touched his naked legs and John didn't pull away.

 

Bobby eased forward sweeping the crossbow around the room, but other than the man tied to the bed it was empty. Laying the bow across the foot of the bed he eased a flask of holy water out of his pocket and dribbled it on John's bare leg. The cuts smoked and John hissed in pain, but not as if he was a vampire. Only like an injured man.

 

Silently Bobby surveyed his friend's body. John's back was criss-crossed with red welts, some of them puffy and swollen and Bobby knew that meant that they were getting infected. That settled it, vampires healed instantly, infection and disease equated to still living flesh.

 

Pulling a hunting knife out of the top of his boot he began cutting through the nylon rope fastening John's left wrist to the headboard. When his friend's arm was free he set about cutting through the length of rope that bound his ankle.  Once John was cut loose Bobby took a look at the multitude of injuries he had.

 

There were the welts, from a beating, across his back and several bite marks on John's neck and shoulders. Some of the bite marks were deep enough that Bobby could tell the vampires had fed on John; others were purely for sadistic pleasure. There were bruises on John's side and hips, finger marks, and for a minute Bobby didn't want to think about what that meant, but the blood dried on John's buttocks and thighs left nothing to the imagination. Bobby swore.

 

He and John had been dancing on the edge of attraction for each other for years now. Held back only by John’s inexperience with another man. When it happened, and Bobby was sure that it would happen, he wanted to be the first for John. How could he approach the younger man now?

 

That faded from his mind as quickly as it had come, and Bobby gently turned John onto his back surveying the rest of the other man's body. There were long scratches ripped into the flesh of John's forearms, defensive wounds. He had put up a good fight, not that it had gotten him anywhere.

 

"John," Bobby hissed glancing over his shoulder. The house was still, silent and it was fully daylight now, but that didn't mean that the vampires couldn't return. Grunting Bobby slid John upright in the bed and shook him a little. The other man stirred, groaning but his eyes remained closed. Bobby could feel the heat of his body, John was burning with fever and that worried him.

 

"Johnny, I got to move you. Can you help me just a little? You're taller than me and it's gonna take a lot for me to get you up off this bed."

 

That seemed to rouse the other man further, and John dragged himself into a seated position, one eye cracking open. "Bobby?" he murmured.

 

Bobby smiled.

 

"Yeah, it's me, Johnny. Can you lean forward a bit, help me get you upright?”

 

Nodding his head weakly John half-leaned half-fell forward over Bobby's shoulder and then the older man took a deep breath sliding John's weight over his back. He rose, knees grinding and creaking. But he managed to stand.

 

It took him a long time to get John to the truck, and it wasn't a pretty sight him staggering and cussing under the younger man's limp form. But he managed.  Bobby fastened John into the seatbelt to keep him upright and tossed a blanket, out of the back of the truck, over him then set off back to his house.

 

 

It took him filling and emptying the white enameled wash basin five times before John was as clean as Bobby wanted him to be. John lay still barely moving, staring vacantly at the window while the older man bathed him, and that was more worrying to Bobby than the actual injuries that the younger man had sustained. Still John had come out of this better off than the girl he had left in the house.

 

Bobby winced when he rolled John over onto one side to wash his back and buttocks. He cleaned away the blood cursing to himself as the cuts and bruises became more evident. Which ever one of the vampires had worked him over had done a number on him. Still, Bobby was relieved that he didn't seem to have any broken bones or internal injuries.

 

He winced again as John stiffened when the washcloth dipped into the crease of his ass. It was pretty evident that John had been raped, repeatedly. But Bobby could see that the amount of bruising and tearing to John's anus was minimal so whoever had done it had, at least, wanted him alive probably for future use.

 

Once John was washed and under the quilt, Bobby put on a pot of strong tea and went to his medical supplies for a hypodermic needle and a vial of antibiotic. The infected gashes on John's back were the most troubling of his injuries. John was feverish and had faded in and out of consciousness throughout the time Bobby had been tending to him. He looked carefully through the vials of clear liquid finally settling on Keflex, since John and his boys were all allergic to Penicillin.

 

After he had given John the shot Bobby went back to the kitchen and poured a large mug of tea liberally lacing it with sugar and honey. John would probably balk at the surgery taste but he needed the extra energy the tea would give him. Glancing around the kitchen he was gratified to see that he had everything he needed to make a pot of hearty beef stew. He could cut it with water at first to make a soup then as John recovered, get more solid food into him.

 

Taking the mug Bobby settled on the edge of the bed and gently prodded John's shoulder. The other man hissed and flinched and Bobby frowned. He should have told John who he was.

 

"I'm sorry Johnny. It's just me, old Bobby.  Come on and sit up for me so I can get some of this tea into you. You need some fluids."

 

John sighed rolling over with a small grunt. His eyes blinked opened and he glared up at the other man.

 

"I don't need a nursemaid, Singer."

 

"Yeah, yeah…tough guy to the end. I got it, Johnny. Here hold this and let me prop you up a bit."

 

Finally with a lot of grunting and a little spilt tea Bobby managed to get John in a roughly upright position. John blew across the top of the mug to cool the liquid then took a sip. His face twisted in a grimace.

 

"Holy shit, how much sugar did you put in this? You trying to give me diabetes?"

 

Bobby grinned.

 

"Naw, I figure you could just use somethin' to sweeten your sunny disposition a little."

 

John rolled his eyes but offered the other man a tired smile. Bobby slid across the bed resting the outside of his thigh against John's leg, and was surprised when the other man didn't shrug him off.  They sat there in companionable silence until John had finished         most of the cup. He yawned and Bobby eased him down.

 

"Looks like its time for a nap. You rest for a bit. I'm going to make us some beef stew for dinner, okay? Don't you get out of bed by your lonesome. Call me if you need to go to the bathroom."

 

"I think I can take a piss on my own, Bobby. I don't need you to hold it for me," John snapped without any real heat in it. Bobby winked.

 

"Yeah, but you might like it if I did."

 

John's face pinked up nicely and Bobby chuckled at that.

 

"That's one for me," he said happily. Patting John's leg he rose leaving to door opened just so he could keep an ear on the other man if he decided to get up.

 

Bobby was pleased that he got three-quarters of a bowl of soup into John at dinnertime, and that the Keflex seemed to be doing the trick on his cuts. The puffy, red look of the welts had faded considerably. John let Bobby take him to the bathroom and he stood patiently outside until John was finished and they hobbled back to the bed.

 

It wasn't until night fell that Bobby realized that John wasn’t doing as well as he had thought. They had dragged the TV in from the living room and were seated propped against the headboard watching the tail end of the first NFL game of the season, the Chiefs against the Raiders, when a noise outside the window startled them both. Bobby figured it was just one of the dogs making his way around the yard, but John bolted upright his face pale as the sheets.

 

"It's just Rumsfeld, Johnny."

 

The other man didn’t look convinced.

 

"It might not be, Bobby. It could be them."

 

John's reluctance to even say the word vampires left Bobby cold, but he shook his head.

 

"Not here. You know I have this place buttoned up tight. Nothing can get in."

 

"Salt won't work on them. And neither will Devil's Traps."

 

Bobby patted his arm.

 

"I'll bring the crossbow in, and a machete. If it'll make you feel better."

 

John looked like he didn't want Bobby to leave but he nodded. And when the older man propped the crossbow up against the side of the bed beneath John's hand he seemed to relax a little. Bobby placed a machete on one nightstand and a large hunting knife on the table beside John. That calmed the younger man even more.

 

"I put dead man's blood on the window sills. It'll probably stink to high heaven come morning, but it'll wash off just fine. You need to get some sleep."

 

John nodded, watching as the other man walked to the bedroom door. He left the light on low and left the door open. But John couldn’t sleep. Fear coiled in his belly and he flinched at every movement of the trees outside. The shadows seemed to take on new meaning as the wind whispered across the house.

 

He struggled upright, panting. Sweat broke on his forehead and John felt a dull ache in his chest. Desperately he wanted to call out for Bobby, but was ashamed. John settled for watching the window. Cocking his head he listened intently, but no further movements could be heard.

 

Bobby rolled over in bed. He had just drifted off to sleep when he heard the faint sounds of movement in the other room. John was restless, starting at every sound and Bobby knew he was going exhaust himself. With a sigh he padded across the hall and looked in the door. Sure enough the younger man was sitting up in bed staring at the window.

He walked into the room and John blushed, embarrassed at being caught out.

 

"I'm sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you."

 

Bobby shrugged.

 

"To tell you the truth I am kinda worried about those vampires. I was having trouble sleeping."

 

"Oh well, I'll keep watch. I'm not tired myself," John said offering Bobby a weak grin. Bobby rolled his eyes.

 

"Move over," he hissed lifting the blankets. John blinked then finally eased over to the side of the bed. Bobby climbed in lying down. "Come on lay down, Johnny. We both need to get some sleep."

 

Nodding John lay back bumping against Bobby's arm. Without a word Bobby rolled over a bit, shoulder dipping, and slid an arm beneath John's shoulders. Swallowing his pride John shifted until his head was resting on Bobby's shoulder and the other man could wrap his arms around John. Sheltered in Bobby's clam presence John drifted off to sleep.

 

 

Sometime during the night Bobby woke to the sound of John screaming. The words were incoherent but the tone was more than familiar. John was terrified. He bolted upright hands clenched around the quilt. Bobby leaned over flipping on the light. With a grunt Bobby grabbed the other man by the shoulders and John slammed his fist into Bobby's face. His head rocked back, but John was up and off the bed before he could move. Fingering his jaw Bobby slid out of the bed and held out a hand in a calming gesture.

 

"John," Bobby whispered quietly. "John…just calm down. Nobody's gonna hurt you."

 

John stood in the corner shivering.

 

"Please Dean don't…don't hurt Daddy. Please don't do this to me again."

 

The begging wrung Bobby's heart and in one horrified instant he realized that Dean was the one who had raped John. Then he flinched as another thought crossed his mind, maybe Sammy had hurt his father as well. If John had been tortured and raped by his sons then he may be too far gone for Bobby to deal with. He needed to call Jim Murphy in the morning, but right now he needed to calm John down.

 

"John, you're safe. Okay we're at my house …remember? Here at my house and all locked up safe and sound. John, baby, you hear me?"

 

"Bobby?" John murmured finally looking around the room as if he hadn't seen it before. "Bobby…did you just call me baby?"

 

With a grim smile Bobby nodded feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, "Uh yeah I guess I did. You can kick my ass later in the morning, okay. Let's go back to bed."

 

"Bed," John said turning around a frown creasing his forehead. He blinked looking at the bedcovers strung around the floor in disarray. With a guilty expression quickly he gathered up the sheets and quilt smoothing them over the bed before climbing inside.

 

When Bobby climbed in beside him John turned to face the other man.

 

"What happened to your cheek?"

 

"You nailed me a good one," Bobby said. Then at John's horrified grimace he smiled. "It's okay you were indisposed."

 

With the light off Bobby lay back waiting to see if John would fall asleep. The other man seemed nervous and shifted restlessly on the bed. Finally he rolled over and even in the darkened room Bobby could tell he was embarrassed. John coughed then scooted closer to the older man.

 

"Bobby, would you…Can I sort of lean against you?"

 

Bobby turned over sliding his arms around John and letting the other man put his head on Bobby's shoulder. They lay there for a while until he could feel John stop trembling. With a yawn Bobby sighed as John slipped into a light doze. Finally, John huffed out a breath.

 

"You can call me baby, if you want too."

 

"Okay," Bobby whispered against John's skin. He pressed a quick kiss against John's temple. "Go to sleep… baby."

 

Bobby woke slowly, at first, unsure of where he was. The sunlight streaming through the window was on the wrong side of the room. He frowned until there was movement on the side of the bed behind him. It had been a long time since Bobby had slept with anyone, and longer still since that anyone had ended up at his house. In Bobby’s bed...even if this wasn’t exactly his bed.

 

Rolling over Bobby came face to face with John. The bruises on his cheek and temple were dark and ugly, marring the smooth olive flesh. And Bobby could see the deep gash under the bruise on John’s cheek following the line of the scar the other man already had.

The puncture wounds on his neck and shoulder were less evident with John facing him, but still visible although the angry swelling had subsided considerably from the antibiotic.

 

Bobby reached out to stroke the younger man’s face but, recalling the result of his last uninvited touch, hesitated. John blushed, and then closed his eyes briefly. Blinking sleepily he offered the older man a grin that threatened to become a full-fledged smile until the cut on his lip broke open and he thought the better of it.

 

John eased closer and Bobby opened his arms. With the younger man snugged securely against his shoulder Bobby looked over John’s head and out the window. The sunlight was glaring against the glass but with John a warm, heavy weight in his arms Bobby didn’t feel any pressing urge to move.

 

After an hour of listening to John’s gentle uneven snoring Bobby realized that he really needed to take a leak. Sighing he eased out from under the other man, muttering some gentle nonsensical sounds over John’s grunted objections, and headed to the bathroom.

 

 

It was five days before John mentioned going to look for Sam and Dean. Bobby supposed he should be grateful for that much time. He was hustling around the truth with John and he knew that all hell was going to break loose when John finally remembered what happened.  Still Bobby was able to fend John off by telling him he wasn't physically up to the task yet, and as much as John hated to admit it he knew it was the truth. So John researched the vampires' movements as much as possible, which turned out to be hard because they were keeping a low profile, and worked on getting back in shape. Bobby was happy with the younger man's progress physically, but he knew John was holding back emotionally.

 

John only mentioned being raped in his sleep. Bobby was sleeping with John every night, and he was accustomed to being awakened at least once a night by John’s pleading cries. It broke his heart to hear it, and it made him furious at the same time. Some nights John begged Sam to leave him alone. Some nights he begged the boys to leave each other alone. But most nights it was John pleading for some mercy from Dean as if the vampires had corrupted the best part of the boys’ relationships with their family.

 

And John was violent some nights. For the second time Bobby was sporting a bruised cheek, this time from a hard right hook that John dished out not asleep but awake. He was sorry afterwards and Bobby didn’t blame him. They had gone to bed around midnight, as usual, and Bobby woke a little while later curled around John’s broad back. He gulped when he realized he had been dreaming about screwing John. They had been going at it pretty hot and heavy and Bobby was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was hard as a rock. John woke to the feeling of a hard cock digging into his ass. He uttered one hoarse shout and bolted upright in the bed. A hand fell on his arm and John lashed out. There was a satisfying thud that racked his arm and shoulder followed by a hissed, indrawn breath.

 

He was up and out of the bed before the fog cleared from his brain. John stood trembling as a dark figure shuffled out of the bed hand pressed to his nose. In the pale light falling through the window he watched as the shadowy figure reached back to turn on the light. That confused him because ‘they’ never turned on the lights, never needed too.

 

Bobby moved around the bed one hand held out as if to fend John off the other wiping a thin stream of blood off his upper lip. John felt a hot wave of shame wash over him. He gulped, hating the rush of hot tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. Roughly he scrubbed at his eyes.

 

 “God, Bobby I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was you,” he said quickly. With a grimace John surveyed the other man taking note of the sizable swelling at his groin. Suddenly John stepped forward as if coming to some decision. Bobby watched through half-shut eyes. With an even more embarrassed expression the younger man took an unsteady step forward clearing his throat.

 

“Uh...I can. I mean one of them taught me to... I had never done it, but one of them made me. He said I was pretty good at it.”

 

With a grunt John dropped to his knees looking like a man who had no where to turn and who had chosen the lesser of two evils. He reached for Bobby’s boxers fingers working into the elastic waistband before the older man realized what he was doing. When John leaned forward taking a deep breath Bobby let out a surprised shout and jumped back.

 

“John, oh God...you don’t have to do that. I mean, it’s not like I wouldn’t want it, but not now. It’s too soon. And I won’t ever expect you to do something for me that you don’t want to do. I want you, but when you’re ready. And if you decide that you aren’t ever ready that’s okay too. I’ll never hurt you, you understand?”

 

Shaking his head John rose to his feet. The itchy feeling was back in his throat and the hot burning tears were rising, unbidden, in his eyes. With a gulp he staggered back wanting to put some distance between himself and the other man so he could pull himself together, but without warning the storm broke. A harsh sob erupted and once the one was out John couldn’t stop the others that followed. His chest heaved and then Bobby was pressing John’s face to his shoulder rubbing his back and he couldn’t have stopped it for anything in the world.

 

They stood together swaying to a beat neither one of them could hear. John cried for the longest time and Bobby held him, rocked him gently and listened to the words that spilled out between gut-wrenching sobs.

 

Finally he stood back chest heaving.

 

“I have to find them, Bobby. They’re all I’ve got in the world.”

 

“That’s not true John. For all its worth, you got me.”

 

“You should walk way. I’m trouble, we’re trouble and you know it. Besides, you keep saying things like that and I’m gonna take it you mean something by it. That maybe you want me around or something.”

 

Bobby sighed he might as well push his luck a little.

 

“I love you John. Have for years and you know it.”

 

John flinched trying to pull away but the other man held him close. Bobby’s voice was tight as if he was having trouble breathing.

 

“I ain’t asking for anything back, John. I’m just saying I love you and I ain’t ashamed of it.”

 

“I know,” John said.

 

He tilted his head up a little turning so that he was close to Bobby’s face. Their lips were just a few inches apart and John wasn’t sure if he moved to the other man or if Bobby met him half the way, but the kiss was soft, sweet and oh so gentle. Bobby breathed in the scent of John’s breath still rich with the aroma of coffee and whiskey. They stood pressed together breathing in each other’s scent, until John realized that kissing probably wasn’t helping Bobby’s condition. John, himself, felt nothing, not an inkling of sexual desire. He wondered if he ever would again, and then decided that he couldn’t condemn Bobby to a life without sex.

 

Causally so that he wouldn’t startle the other man John slid his hand down until he could grasp Bobby’s rigid cock in his hand. He stroked up, twisting a little at the tip, just the way he liked to handle himself. Bobby seemed to like it too, because he groaned. John grasped the other man firmly through the thin cotton fabric and worked him hard. In a few minutes Bobby stuttered and groaned again and John felt warm, wetness spreading on the front of Bobby’s underwear. Panting Bobby reached out, but John sidestepped him, shaking his head.

 

“I’m okay for now. Just give me a little more time okay?”

 

“As long as you need, but you don’t have to do that for me. I’ve taken care of business myself before. I can do it again. You don’t have to do anything for me you don’t want to do, just remember that.”

 

“I will, but I want to do it,” John said with a gruff sigh. He leaned in for a kiss again, and snuggled into Bobby’s shoulder letting the other man pet him.

 

John woke early the next morning. Shifting he looked over his shoulder at the older man snoring softly on the pillow next to his head. A sad smile tugged at John's lips. In the last two weeks Bobby had been good to him. He shifted feeling a warm rush of emotion as he surveyed the other man. Rolling over John shifted close, laying a hand on Bobby's broad chest. The other man shifted snorting then opened his eyes.

 

Raising himself up John leaned across Bobby's chest and pressed a kiss to his lips. The older man lay still letting John control the kiss, letting him regain some control over his sexuality. John sighed working his tongue inside Bobby's mouth and only cringing a bit when the older man lifted his arms, pulling John into a tight embrace.

 

Bobby let John press against him, and was gratified to feel the hard length of John's cock against his hip. It seemed as if John was finally regaining some sexual desire. They didn’t do much more than kiss and grope at each other like fumbling teenagers going at it the first time. But the results were satisfying for them both. Afterwards they shared a shower and almost killed themselves trying to wash without falling over each other.

 

At breakfast John kept staring at Bobby then blushing and looking away when the older man caught him. Finally, Bobby cocked his head and smiled.

 

"You keep looking at me," he started and John blushed hotly.

 

"It's just that I never thought I'd want… that I'd feel that again. I don't know why but I have these dreams. I feel hands touching me in my sleep and I just want to crawl away and die. I don't understand it."

 

"Just give yourself some time, John. It'll come back to you. Besides you ought not to be in such a rush to remember"

 

"I need to Bobby. I need to remember so I can find my boys."

 

 

They left the house early in the morning two days later, Bobby driving John’s truck. The two men had spent most of the previous day going through the weapons in the box under the false bottom of the flat-bed. John made sure that they had several machetes and a couple of long hunting knifes with serrated blades for each of them. He was taking no chances, since both his sons had been prisoners of the vampires for almost three weeks now. He said as much to Bobby. The older man looked wary, but offered John a non-committal grunt in response. He knew John could track the vampires, but Bobby was sure that the other hunter was going to be in for one hell of a surprise when they caught up to them.

 

They started at the house that the vampires had been using for a nest when John and the boys had first tracked them. The house that Bobby had rescued John from after his kidnap and assault. Bobby was leery of going back into the place, but it was the best way to track the vampires.

 

The house was on the end of a dirt and gravel road, fairly isolated with no other structures close by. Bobby pulled the truck through the grass and around to the rear of the house, so that it would not be visible from the street. He climbed out clandestinely watching John out of the corner of his eye. The door was still unlocked hanging loosely on hinges almost torn completely out of the wall. The smell hit them as soon as they walked in the door and Bobby felt his stomach clench to the point he almost puked. There was no mistaking the rich, overly ripe scent of decomposing flesh.

 

The girl was still on the bed in the front bedroom, her arms lax, fingers still twisted into the bedclothes. Her skin was gray marbled with darker blue touched in places by green. Bobby didn’t turn her over, there was no point. She was bloated with gas and he didn’t really want to watch her stomach burst open spilling her intestines over the blood caked blankets. They’d have to burn her body; it was too dangerous to call the sheriff’s department to come pick her up. He felt sorry for the family she might have left behind, but what good would it do them knowing she was gone. They’d never have the satisfaction of seeing her killers brought to trial. That was something he and John would do for her, lay her to rest and give her the peace of bringing her killers to justice their way.

 

Carefully Bobby lifted the corner of the blanket tugging it up and around the girl's shoulders. When he had her encased in the bedclothes Bobby reached into the small duffle he had over one shoulder pulling out a canister of salt. He shook a fine sheet of white crystals over the corpse then ducked back out into the hall.

 

John was standing at the door to the last bedroom, the room Bobby had found him in. The younger man's face was sickly gray, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and Bobby was sure John was going to keel over. Taking a deep breath John pushed the door completely open then stepped into the room. He took one look at the rumpled, dirty bed and staggered into the corner dropping to his hands and knees. Bobby could see John's shoulders heaving as he vomited.

 

Trembling he rose unsteadily to his knees. With a grim expression John wiped his mouth on the cuff of his sleeve and turned to look at the other man. His face was twisted, eyes thin slits as if John wanted to force some thought out of his head. Then he slumped forward and Bobby caught the younger man by the shoulders. John all but climbed Bobby, clinging to him.

 

"They raped me…" he whispered. Bobby stroked John's back.

 

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry."

 

"Two of the male vampires. They took turns raping me, made me watch while they had sex with each other," John whimpered. "God, those bastards have Dean and Sammy."

 

Bobby frowned over the younger man's head. He patted John's shoulder glaring at himself in the mirror over the dresser shoved against the far wall. Silently Bobby cursed himself for being a coward. But John was still skittering on the edge of the truth, and damn if Bobby wanted to be the one to tell him. So he held John rubbing soothing circles on his back and muttering soft comforting sounds that bore no meaning.

 

The vampires had been pretty careful to take everything out of the house, especially anything that could tell a tracker where they were going. Except that they hadn't counted on John Winchester coming after them. Bobby thought that was stupid on their part since he was sure that Dean and Sam had been turned and were, by virtue of being Winchesters, already in charge of the pack.

 

John carefully avoided looking at the bed as he searched the room. The garbage cans were still full and he dumped the contents on the floor raking through them with the toe of his work boot. Something caught his attention and John stooped over fingers rapping on one thigh as he bent close. Under the assorted fast food wrappers, food that the vampires had brought him and the girl, until they had killed her, was a single slim volume of the local telephone book.

 

The pages were creased and well thumbed through but one page had been ripped from the book. John fingered the edges of the torn page. It was for residential listings. He picked up the book thrusting it out to the other man.

 

"I need a new copy of this phone book; you got one at the house?"

 

"Nope, but we can go by the local office in town."

 

They were seated at a diner half an hour later, John's fingers trailing down the columns of the page in the new book that matched the page one of the vampires had torn out of the copy in the house. He paused taking a sip of the coffee sitting beside his elbow. Pointing to the page John tapped several entries that he had circled in red Sharpie.

 

"Look, this is the page that the vampires tore out. It has some residential listings but here, in this section, there are several real estate agents listed. I think they were looking for a new place to hole up. For some reason they haven't moved on yet.

 

Bobby nodded and sighed to himself. If he was right about the boys being turned it was likely that the vampires hadn't moved on because Sam and Dean were trying to figure out a way to get John back, maybe even turn him if they had too. Although with Dean calling the shots, and Bobby was almost certain that Dean was calling the shots, he might want his Daddy back as a sex toy, and keeping him human would make John far more 'useable'. And Bobby was also sure that Dean wouldn't want John turned for fear that, formidable as he was, John would take over the pack.

 

"Well," Bobby huffed. "There are four agents listed there. What do we do just go to each office and ask 'Have any creatures of the night come by lately looking for an out of the way place to nest?’"

 

John shot him a look.

 

"No, we're gonna check each office and see if the nice real estate agents have a secluded country home for sale. They might be willing to offer up some address for prospective buyers."

 

Bobby made a sound low in his throat that was something between a growl and a sigh. But John was right; the vampires had singled out those agents for something, even if they had no intentions of buying the place they could still use it as long as the house remained vacant.

 

"What prospective buyers would that be?" Bobby asked reluctantly. He wasn't sure that he wanted John finding the nest. It was dangerous and it wouldn't sit well with the younger man when he finally had to face the truth. And, as much as he hated to admit it, Bobby didn't want this hunt wrapped up. Didn't want to lose the closeness he had with John, he wanted to keep the younger man by his side and in his bed.

 

The first real estate agent they visited was a tall, blond woman in her mid-forties. She was polite when Bobby walked in the door, and he grinned as she perked right up when John walked in. Her smile got impossibly wide as he settled in the chair and pushed a flyer for her office, they had gotten out of the newspaper, across the desk.

 

"Your ad said that you have some nice country houses, in secluded peaceful settings."

 

John shot her the patented Winchester million dollar smile, the one that dropped women in their tracks. Dean thought he had it perfected but he had nothing on the old man. Sure enough, the agent slid sideways in her chair making sure that her skirt was above the knee and rocked toward John. Bobby cleared his throat.

 

"Uhmm, ma'am, Johnny and I are looking for a house."

 

John picked up the spiel nicely. "Something in the country, not too close to town. Bobby and I are looking for privacy, and some peace and quiet."

 

"You and," the woman turned to the older man, "I assume you're Bobby? Excuse me you and Bobby are looking for a house together?"

 

"Somethin' wrong with that," Bobby snapped and she leaned back a tiny frown creasing her forehead.

 

"No, it's just unusual for two men to want to buy a house together in this day and age."

 

John blinked. "Is it?"

 

Bobby smiled. "I guess this ain't the kind of town for us, baby."

 

She flinched at the 'baby' as if something just dawned on her. Forcing a smile at the older man she turned to Bobby.

 

"Not necessarily we have several nice places, not large, but if it's just the two of you…"

 

"Well, that and the dogs."

 

"Still I have several places, do you want to follow me out to the houses?" She smiled that strained little smile again. John held up a hand.

 

"Can you just give us the addresses and we'll go drive by first. To see if they fit the bill. Have you had much interest in the houses?"

 

"It's funny that you should ask. I had two young men come in here a few days ago. They were looking for a country place as well. I showed them all three houses."

 

 

The first house was still, quiet and John could tell right away that the vampires had not chosen the place. It was too close to the road and surrounded by a lush, green lawn that left the house standing right in the open. They didn't even bother getting out of the truck.

 

The second house was more promising and Bobby agreed with John that it was worth the time to check inside. Bobby parked the truck and John was out on the porch before he could even get the door open. Kneeling down John picked the lock and pushed the door in.

 

The house was clean, no visible stains on the carpets or floors no lingering scent of garbage or dead bodies. Bobby was willing to write this one off as nothing except for John's intent examination of the tile entry way. He stooped over finally dropping to his hand and knees. That's when Bobby noticed it, a faint hint of red clay, and a fine powder on the floor beside the rug. John traced over the shape with his forefinger.

 

"This is it," he whispered. Bobby stooped over glaring at the smudge on the floor.

 

"How do you know, Johnny?"

 

"This tread on the sole of these sneakers matches the shoes that Sam had on the last time I saw him. And look at the size. Sam has big feet, size thirteen triple E. It was almost impossible to buy him shoes as a teenager."

 

Blinking Bobby shrugged minutely. John was one hell of a tracker.  He had no reason to doubt what the other man was telling him. Still, Bobby felt a shudder crawl down his spine. This was going down too fast for him. John wasn't nearly ready for what was coming.

 

Smiling John rose from his crouch at Bobby's feet. He slapped the other man on the shoulder. "We need to get back to your place for a little bit. I want to get this set up. Those bastards have my boys Bobby and I intend to get them back. But I want this thing to go down smooth."

 

 

Bobby lay on the grass on the hillside flat on his belly watching the house from a safe distance. Pulling himself to his knees he balanced on the balls of his feet watching intently as the other man started his downward climb to the back door. He and John had scoped out the place earlier that morning. The house was immaculately clean, but there were still traces that the vampires had been using it. John was able to find tracks, faint but visible in the bright daylight. Something the vampires would tend to overlook. The two men were going in the house after Sam and Dean. John had been stridently angry when Bobby even suggested that the boys might not be prisoners, and Bobby had a numb feeling deep in his gut that this was going to be anything but smooth regardless of what the younger man had told him.

 

John was flanking the house and Bobby could see his slow but steady progress toward the rear yard. Once John was in position both men were going in through the doors at the same time. It was more dangerous to enter the house alone, but they didn’t want the vampires getting out the back while they were making their way in through the front. Once the boys realized that John was coming after them, they would disappear.

 

Bobby picked up his crossbow in one hand; he had a machete on a leather thong over the other. The crossbow's steel tipped bolts were useless against a vampire unless he could decapitate it. But they were dipped in dead man’s blood and that would drop them in their tracks. He was also determined that he was not going to let John get anywhere near the boys until John realized they had been turned. Taking a deep breath Bobby rose from his crouch and slid silently down the hill.

 

The house was quiet, in the mid-afternoon the vampires would be sleeping. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t wake up. The front room was empty and John met Bobby coming through the kitchen to the back door.

 

John jerked his chin in the direction of the hallway leading back to the bedrooms. The first bedroom was occupied by two figures. There was a boy and a girl, about Sam’s age, sleeping on the bed. The girl was wrapped around the boy and both were too still, too silent, to be human. John nodded Bobby to the other side of the bed and the two men quickly dispatched the vampires. The absolute look of horror and surprise on the boy's face was almost comical, if his head hadn’t been rolling off the bed toward the floor. Bobby stooped letting the machete fall on the leather thong around his wrist and caught the head before it could hit the floor. Quickly he tucked the head onto the bed beside the still twitching body and followed John out the door.

 

 

The second room held only one vampire, a girl. She woke up just as John leaned over her and he clamped his hand over her mouth before she could scream. Her teeth sliced into his palm and John’s breath hissed out of his body in one long breath but he didn’t make a sound. Raising a fist he brought it down against her cheek with bone-crunching force. There was a snap and her head jerked around at an odd angle. Bobby stepped up to the bed and raised the machete. The spray of blood from her neck was thin and sluggish as if she had not been feeding, and he wondered if she was newly made. It was hard for the fledglings to fight off the older vampires when food was scarce.

 

That left John’s boys and Bobby dreaded this moment more than anything he and the other man had done that day. The last bedroom was swathed in shadows, the bed pushed into a small niche between two windows, but the curtains were drawn against the sunlight, and it was hard to see. There were two forms on the bed, both male from the length of the bodies, and the breath of the shoulders. Bobby knew them instantly and he looked over at John. Before he could move the younger man had dropped the weapon he was carrying and knelt down beside the bed.

 

“Sam, Dean,” John said quickly. The two forms on the bed untangled themselves and both younger men rolled over. Sam looked at his father with a wide-eyed innocence that Bobby felt dig into the pit of his stomach. The stench of decay was on both the boys, the smell of decomposing blood, and it revolted the older man. John seemed to be ignoring it as he pushed at Sam trying to get his younger son up and off the bed. “Boys you’ve got to come with me…”

 

Sam smiled up at his father.

 

“You alone Dad?”

 

He jumped, startled, when Bobby stepped out of the shadows.

 

“I don’t think so boys. Not this time.”

 

Hissing out a curse Dean leapt off the bed, trying for Bobby’s arm. The older man sidestepped, dropping the machete and bringing the crossbow up. The bolt was badly aimed and for one minute Bobby was sure that he had missed Dean, but the younger man yelped and staggered back a step. He swung on Bobby knocking the older man down, as he disappeared out the door.

 

John frowned.

 

“Bobby, what the hell? That’s my boy you’re shooting at.”

 

“It ain’t anymore John. Believe me.” But Bobby could tell he was never going to convince the other man. He shrugged, “I’ll go check on him.”

 

Following Dean he charged out of the room and down the hall. He all but stumbled over Dean’s body lying in the floor of the living room. The dead man’s blood had kicked in and Dean was gasping weakly, barely moving. Casting a glance down the hall Bobby groaned. This was gonna kill his friendship with John, but in good conscience Bobby couldn’t let the boy live. He raised the machete.

 

 

Sam sat on the bed staring at his father with hooded eyes. John still had the machete in his hand, but he was wavering. Somewhere deep in his mind John knew that this ‘thing’ in front of him was not the baby boy his eldest had carried from the fire.  But the face was still Sam, still the young man John had argued with for years, still the young man he had worried for when he was gone from their life.  Was still his last tie to the life he had loved and the woman he had mourned for twenty-three years. With a grin Sam rose to his full height, reaching out to stroke his father’s cheek.

 

“Don’t hurt me, Dad.”

 

The soft whispered words pulled a groan from John’s lips. The machete felt heavy in his hand, and he looked at it. It was an ugly thing, still dripping blood. How could he have thought he would need to use this against his son? Not his baby, not his Sammy.

 

With a grimace, which might have passed as a smile, Sam slid forward. His long fingers crept down John’s arm, reaching for the weapon. John cocked his head looking down, watching his son’s every move.

 

“Daddy, don’t worry it’ll all be over soon,” Sam hissed. John flinched; the words drilling themselves into his brain. With a half-strangled shout he raised the machete. The blade arced through the air, and blood splattered the wall behind the bed.

 

Bobby heard John’s shout and his mouth went dry. Tossing the crossbow into the hall he ran towards the bedroom door. The bed was empty when Bobby rounded the corner. There was a body lying on the floor and John was seated on the floor, back against the bed, rocking slowly.

 

Bobby cringed looking at the bundle in John’s arm. He knelt down hand resting on John’s thigh. The younger man flinched then turned his head slowly. Not looking down at his chest John shuddered and rocked his arms again. Bobby reached out terrified that the other man wouldn’t let go.

 

“Baby, please can you put that down.”

 

“It’s just Sammy. That’s all Bobby, just Sammy.”

 

“Please, for God’s sake, John put it down.”

 

John frowned down at the bundle in his arms. His shirt sleeves were bathed in blood and the matted hair fell over the stained fabric. With a grunt John put the head down beside the body and fell silent. Bobby nudged him and John rocked slightly then sat still. With a grimace the older man tugged on John’s arm, and he moved rising to his feet without a sound.

 

John stood silently in the kitchen while the other man dragged the bodies from the back rooms. He watched without a sound as the last two were placed beside the others. Bobby panted but didn’t say anything as the other man stood unmoving in the doorway. When he had the bodies all placed close together, heads tucked neatly under their arms, he moved John toward the kitchen door. Bobby pushed John out the door, and was afraid the other man might not leave. But John shuffled forward and sat quietly in the truck watching Bobby with unblinking eyes.

 

By the time he had salted the bodies and doused them in lighter fluid the sun was fading from the sky. John still hadn’t said a word; he was still perched in the truck eyes on the house. He didn’t even look away when the flames broke open the windows, shattering glass and wood alike.

 

The trip back to Bobby’s place was made in utter silence. He bundled John into bathtub and washed him, running the water over and over again. When John was clean and dry Bobby tucked him into bed without even bothering with clothes.

 

The lights were off and Bobby was resting beside the younger man when John turned toward him.

 

“Did you get the vampires?”

 

“Yeah, Johnny, I got them.”

 

“Good,” John said curling up beside Bobby like a giant cat. Bobby pulled the other man into his arms. “Did you see the boys?”

 

“Johnny?” Bobby asked frowning.

 

John shuddered, “I thought…I thought that maybe you’d see the boys at the house.”

 

“I did, John. You know that,” Bobby swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “John the boys are gone…you know that too.”

 

“I know,” John said with a frown. “But they could have at least come by to see their old man before they went.”

 

“Johnny…” Bobby paused. There’d be time for that later. If this was how John wanted to play it now Bobby was willing to do anything to get him through the night. He shifted sliding an arm under John’s shoulders. The younger man rolled over looking at Bobby sleepily.

 

“Bobby, can you just hold on to me for just a little bit.”

 

“All right Johnny. I can do that,” Bobby whispered. “Everything’s gonna be okay. Just hold on to me. We got all the time in the world.”

 

 

**_Epilogue_ **

  
Bobby sat on the front porch of the house watching as his lover puttered around in the garden. It was early spring the best time for setting out roses, his mother used to put out her rose bushes in spring too. It was a sort of rite of passage in the Singer household. Now the Singer clan numbered just one, and some days he felt mighty old.

 

John had turned out to have quite a green thumb, and the entire front of the house was surrounded by tall foliage, roses and shrubs, and some other flowers too. But mostly it was the roses; Bobby had never had the heart to ask John why he chose the delicate blooms. They were hard to grow and needed a lot of love and attention. Then again John had nothing else to do these days. And at least he was up and around.

 

If anyone had told Bobby that the vacant shell of a human being he had dragged back to the house would ever be half-way normal again he would have laughed in their face. But watching as John bent, hands turning the loose soil with such tender care, the older man felt satisfied. Occasionally he worried about what was going to happen to John when Bobby passed, but he had a few good years left in him so that thought slid away to hover just in the corner of his mind.

 

John rose, bending over to brush the dirt off the knees of his jeans. He settled on the porch swing beside Bobby grinning at him. Nodding to the freshly planted bushes the older man sighed.

 

“They look good in that spot. I’m glad you planted them there.”

 

“Yeah, me too. I’m starving what have we got for lunch?”

 

“I don’t know. Why don’t you get washed up and I’ll fix up something.”

 

John looked at the dirt under his fingernails then frowned. A shadow crossed his face and Bobby held his breath waiting for the explosion of despair, but it never came. Instead John merely stood up and opened the door. Bobby walked across the room watching his lover pause thoughtfully.

 

“Hey Bobby,” John said at last. “Do you suppose the boys will come by tonight?”

 

Bobby stopped in his halting progress toward the kitchen, “John, you know that the boys are gone. We talked about that.”

 

A shadow crept across the younger man’s face, as if he recalled the conversation. Bobby tracked the progression of emotions as John summoned the information and cast it away. He started to call John on it, made a noise of disapproval in the back of his throat, but John blithely ignored him.

 

 “What are we going to do this afternoon?”

 

They didn’t hunt anymore. In fact Bobby had spent most of the time as John recovered from that last hunt, cleaning all his books out of the house and storing them or giving them away. There was nothing that made even the remotest references to demons or supernatural creatures in the house now, except that one devil’s trap on the ceiling, and John never looked at it. Bobby couldn’t say he missed it. He and John cooked, cleaned house, argued, and made love like an old married couple. And that suited Bobby just fine. They were happy. Well, John was oblivious, but Bobby was happy. And he thought that John was as happy as he could be under the circumstances.

 

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe go to the movies, or maybe go for a long drive. You want to go down to the lake for a bit, take a walk? There’s nothing in particular we got to do. Maybe I’ll just take you back to bed and love on you a little. How about that?”

 

Smiling John disappeared into the bathroom. Bobby was seated at the kitchen table when he appeared at the door. John dropped into a chair looking at the bowls of steaming soup and sandwiches that Bobby seemed to have made in seconds. Of course his mind wandered a bit, now and then, so he supposed he could have taken longer in the bathroom than he thought. They ate in silence for a while before the younger man finished the last of the soup.

 

 “Dean really loved your soup. Both the boys were always happy to come by here.”

 

“Well, I loved having ‘em here too. Even if their Daddy was a pain in the ass most times.”

 

John cast a glance at Bobby while poking at the sandwich. “You didn’t put pickles on it did you?”

 

He chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes then smiled a little vacantly at the other man.

 

“Bobby, you suppose the boys will come by tonight?”

 

Swallowing hard Bobby looked down at his plate then shrugged.

 

“Don’t know for sure Johnny. You know how it is, hunting’s a hard business. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

 

“I guess, they might not come at that.” John frowned looking out the window. It seemed as if he was forgetting something. The memory hung just out of his reach but he brushed past it, not really wanting to linger, not really wanting to shake the dark thought loose. Instead he looked over at Bobby who seemed totally absorbed in his food. John hoped he wasn’t mad at him.

 

 “Did I ever tell you I brought Mary roses when the boys were born, pink for Dean and yellow for Sam.”

 

“No you didn’t Johnny. Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

 

The End

 


End file.
